If This is Thursday then This Must Be Houston
by ReverendKilljoy
Summary: The day after Josh flew to Houston and met Matt Santos. The day before all the Josh-Donna shippers did the fluffy bunny happy dance. Post-Ep for "Impact Winter."


Disclaimers:

Based wholly or partly on characters and situations created by Aaron Sorkin, John Wells, NBC, Warner Brothers Television Production Inc., and who knows what others. An unauthorized work of speculative fiction. Parental discretion is advised. Do not distribute for profit or without notification. Not to be taken internally. No user serviceable parts inside. Made in the USA. I wouldn't stop for red lights. Strongest fan fiction available without a prescription. May cause dizziness, dry mouth or nausea. Do not read my fanfics while driving, drinking or operating heavy machinery. I'm ReverendKilljoy and I approved this Disclaimer.

Note: Disclaimers for season six. Post-Ep for "Impact Winter." Spoilers for the whole danged series if you think about it…

If This Is Thursday Then This Must Be Houston…

By ReverendKilljoy

W.W.

The phone rang, his cell phone. Since it was on vibrate and in his jacket pocket, it rang right against his heart. Since he'd fallen asleep in his jacket, it woke him up. And since he had no idea where he was and why he was there, the vibrating against the scar over his heart woke him to frightened disorientation.

Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff of the Bartlet White House, rolled over and reached, groggy and muttering darkly, for his cell phone. With hands on autopilot he got it open and somewhere in the vicinity of his ear and mouth.

"Josh Lyman."

"Josh," said the caller in an efficient but not unaffectionate tone, "Wake up call. Don't forget you have to run staff this morning, so be in the shower in five minutes."

"What? What time is it?" Josh looked around at his surroundings, blinking like a bear coming out of hibernation. "Donna?"

"Yes, Josh. Now don't be late- I don't have time to coddle you this morning."

"Right. No, I'm up. I just had this really weird dream…" His voice trailed off. "Anyway, I'm up. I'll be there soon."

"Okay, bye."

"Bye." He hung up the phone, and stumbled to the bathroom. Still letting his primitive reptilian brainstem do most of the piloting, he shaved and changed shirts, grabbed his backpack and walked out the door.

W.W.

Her phone was ringing. She winced, and checked the caller ID. She thought about letting it go to voice mail, but she couldn't. She really just couldn't.

"Donna Moss," she answered with a cheerfulness that fooled neither of them.

"So I had this dream," Josh told her, brightly. "This dream I came in to work and you weren't there. I dreamed you quit."

"I'm sorry, Josh," she began, but she realized there was no end to that conversation that might come in the next three hours, and she had to get to work. "I'm sorry."

"So I get this phone call reminding me I have a meeting." He was not letting on that she had apologized or he had heard her. "I get one of those frequent, slightly condescending and slightly mothering and controlling wake up calls, to tell me to get my butt in to the office."

"I never said-" she began, but he cut her off.

"So I brush my teeth and I'm out the door running… until it hits me that I'm standing in the parking lot of the Hyatt in Houston, it's still 5:00 AM here, and I don't even know what color my rental car is because it was dark when I got here last night."

"Houston? What are you-" she tried to ask, but again he jumped in and cut her off.

"So, if I'm standing in this parking lot, then I really did leave Washington and fly down here to see Matt Santos. And if that's all true, the part about you leaving me is true too, I suppose."

"I didn't leave you Josh! That's just the point- I could never leave that job without leaving you. So, okay I sort of left you. But not like you mean it."

She was sitting in traffic, wanting to hang up. Wanting to pull over and cry. Wanting to drive to the White House and sit at her old desk and hear him shouting for her. She didn't. She just drove, and listened to him saying nothing.

"Okay," he said after a long while. "Okay, I just have two things. First, your new job, is it good? I mean- do they treat you okay? You're a very valuable player- don't take any crap Donna. Don't let them push you around."

He sounded so protective, so proud, she felt guilty and girlish and wanted to spin around and say, "He finds me valuable!" Instead she took a deep breath and said, "It's a good job."

"Good. You deserve it. You earned it, a long time ago."

"There was a second thing?" She was blushing and was sure he could hear it through the phone.

"Yeah. When you called this morning-" he started but now it was her turn to jump in.

"I forgot, okay? I woke up and I was running late and my first thought was to make sure you were up and on your way so I wouldn't feel bad for running late myself. Even now I can't get through my morning without thinking about you, is that okay? Does that do nice things for your ego, Joshua? It didn't mean anything; it's nothing special, I just forgot."

"Yeah." He started again, and again he was pretending that he hadn't heard her. "So, when you called this morning-"

"It was a mistake," she interjected, determined to head this off. No good could come of this, she was sure.

"When you called this morning," he repeated again, getting louder and not waiting for her to finish speaking, "it was really good to hear your voice."

"To hear my voice?"

"Yeah. I've missed you."

She laughed despite herself at his utter puppy-dog pathos. ""You missed me? For a day?"

"Well," he rationalized, "it _was_ a really long day."

"A long day?"

"Hours." He was smiling. She could almost hear his dimples.

"Lots of hours?" (Oh God, she thought, we're bantering. Again. Eek!)

"Lots. Dozens. I was lucky to survive."

"I have to go Josh. I'm almost at work." She was trying to use her all-business voice, her 'look at me and see how serious I am' voice, but it didn't work any better than it ever had, with him.

"Have a good day… uh, at work, I guess. I better start trying the rental keys on all these cars till I find mine."

"That's a quest worthy of you, Josh. You have a good day too, and sorry for calling." She hung up, smiling.

W.W.

He found his car, and was trying to get someone at the DNC to set up a trip to New Hampshire for him. He was almost to the airport when he gave in and made the call he should have made already, the one that had been bothering at him all morning.

"Donna Moss. Josh, you can't call me all day on my cell, I'm working!" She sounded so professional. It was actually quite a turn on.

"So, I was wondering, Donna, now that you aren't working for me any more…" He let the pause grow.

"Yes?" She might, no, probably would say… what the hell, he thought. Time to ask her.

"So, are you, you know, seeing anybody?" Mistake, his fears chimed in loudly, this is all a horrible mistake! Thanks guys, where were you thirty seconds ago?

"Why?" She'd been hurt, and too often it had been by him. Her voice was neutral but he could bet her knuckles were white holding her cell phone.

"Are you free for lunch tomorrow? You know, for me to take you out to lunch, I mean. Like, um, a lunch date."

"Let-me-check-yes," she said without any detectable pause. "But it will have to be quick, unless dinner would be better?" He grinned. She was biting her lip, he'd have bet on it.

"Dinner would be great." He was mentally filling the keg of glory already. "Pick you up at your place at 7:00?"

"7:30 would be better. I have to pick up my little red dress." She teased him, "Unless it's not that kind of dinner?"

"Oh, it's that kind," he assured her. "If there's any other kind, this is the kind that's not that other kind."

"See you at 7:30 then, Joshua." She too was eying the keg of glory, he could tell.

"Oh, and Donna? Donnatella?"

"Yes? Yes?"

"Nothing," he admitted. "I just like to hear you say 'Yes.' See you at 7:30."

"Yes," she laughed and hung up.

"Yes!" he shouted, smacking the flat of his hand against the ceiling of the rental car.

W.W.

"Yes. _Yes,_" she said to herself, putting her phone away and trying to get her mind back on work, at least for the next eight hours.

The End-


End file.
